


What's Done In The Dark

by PBJellie



Series: South Park Kink Meme Requests [12]
Category: South Park
Genre: M/M, Public Sex, Secret Relationship, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 09:46:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PBJellie/pseuds/PBJellie
Summary: Eric and Kyle have a (somewhat) secret relationship.Written for the South Park Kink Meme.





	What's Done In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the South Park Kink Meme
> 
> Request: 
> 
> Accidentally walking in on Kyle and Eric fucking was the worst way he could have found out that they were secretly dating.

“What if this is was good as it gets,  _ Kyle _ ?”

There was no way, he thought. There was no way that this, Eric Theodore Cartman pressed flush against his back in a Motel 6 room an hour north of Denver, was as good as it gets.

Unless it was.

What the fuck did he know?

“Don't stop,” what sounded sexy in theory, came out as a complaint. Which he supposed, it was.

“I dunno,” and he  could see the smirk on his fat fucking face, even with his face shoved into a deflated pillow. “I might be done.”

“I'd have felt you ejaculate,” Kyle groaned. “Just move, fatass.”

“Must have come dry.”

“You didn't,” Kyle pressed against him, fighting his immense weight.

“Yep, sorry, _K_ _ yle _ .”

Eric was still hard when he pulled out.    
  
  


* * *

  
  


“I'm a lawyer, Ike,” Kyle whined into the phone. “I can't just drive home everytime Mom finds a new mole on her arm. I'm very busy,” which was half true. He was a lawyer, like his dad, he thought, nose wrinkling in disgust against his will.

He wasn't busy. No, he glanced back on the bed, Eric's body sprawling against a hideous bedspread. Both were equally disgusting.

Both probably had diseases.

He'd slept with both, anyway. He tried not to gag.

“Yeah, I know,” he pantomimed to Eric as he spoke, rolling his eyes and shrugging his shoulders. At one point in Ike’s rambly rant about family and its importance, he put a finger gun under his chin.

If only it was so simple.

“Look, I've got a client. Yes, a client. I'm speaking to you from my office. I have to go. Okay, okay, I love you. Goodbye. Yeah, see you soon. Bye!” He hung up the phone with huff, rolling his eyes on final time.

“Love you, bye,” Eric laughed, body jiggling on the bed. “God, you goddamn Jews and your family ties.”

“Ma’s just having a rough patch,” Kyle said, jaw clenched.

“She's a big ol’ bitch,  _ Kyle,”  _ the way he said Kyle made his skin crawl. Like it wasn't even his name. Like they weren’t fucking in backwater hideaway motels.

“She's my mom,” he said, teeth clamped together. “She's not like your mom. She's not a whore.”

“Hey! Don't be talking shit about my mom. She's a goddamn saint, fucking Mother Teresa, and you know it.” Eric rolled up on his arms, framing his face with his hands. He kicked his legs up, his heels nearly touching his bare ass.

How the fuck did he get here? Kyle asked himself.

 

* * *

 

 

“Yeah Ike, I know. I know she's my mom and gave birth to me, but it's probably nothing. It's nothing and she's making a huge deal out of it, because that's what she does,” Kyle spat into the phone. Ike had called him over and over. The ringing interrupted a somewhat pleasurable experience.

And that pleasurable experience was still hogtied on the bed. His own bed. Kyle wondered when he let the lines blur enough that he was okay with fucking in Eric's house. When did he decide it was okay to step foot inside? Was he just sick of paying for seedy rooms where shitty packaged snacks served as a complimentary continental breakfast? Maybe he was sick of the housekeeping knocks pulling him out of the moment?

In his defense, it was awfully hard to come when he thought someone was watching. Performance anxiety, he supposed.

Eric said it helped him along. Fucking freak.

Maybe he just didn't want Cartman to have the upper hand. If he got off to cheap rooms and traumatizing maids, that was his business, but Kyle wanted no part in it.

But here Kyle was, looking at him, his wrists and ankles tied, and he supposed that Cartman was still getting what he wanted.

He was a bastard like that. 

  
  


* * *

 

“Tell Mom I'll see her soon,” Kyle sighed. This one time, the one time he didn't immediately drop his life and tend to her beck and call, his mother was actually sick.

“You won't though,” Eric called from between the sheets, Kyle's sheets to be exact. “Lord knows, or for you, your Jew God, he knows you're just gonna keep fucking me instead of dealing with life.”

“I am on the phone!” He hissed, hastily covering the receiver with his hand. Cartman sat up, the lines of a thong digging into his lovehandles. He'd lost a bit of weight, just a hair, by spending his meals with Kyle. Or maybe it was increased activity, even if it was only the sexual kind.

“No, not you. Not you, shit. Look, I'll get back when I can. I promise.”

To his credit, he waited a good two minutes before resuming their activities.

 

* * *

 

 

There were three loud knocks on the door as Kyle moaned beneath Eric's ministrations. They're were just about ready to do the deed. Eric's member slick with lube and Kyle open and impatient. He'd pretend he wasn't home.

“Hello?” It was Ike. Kyle cursed softly, partially from the realization, and partially from the sudden entrance of Eric's dick. He canted his hips into it, sucking in a breath through his nose as he bit his bottom lip.

“Kyle, I know you're home,” Ike beat on the door. “You missed mom's appointment and you're car is outside.”

“No one's home,” Eric shouted at the top of his lungs as he pulled out, only to slam back in.

“Is that a burglar? Are you okay? I'm gonna open the door, okay?”

Kyle would have protested, but Eric was hitting him in just the right places. He could only moan as his knees went weak. He sunk his teeth into the fabric in front of him.

“Now is not a good time,” Eric called out, still thrusting. Kyle's eyes went wide as Eric continued bending him over his couch. A couch that was, at one point, his mom's couch.

“Oh my God,” Ike choked out, meeting Kyle's eyes for a few fleeting moments. All Kyle could see was disappointment. “This is why you missed chemo?”

“Yeah,  _ Kyle _ ,” Eric moaned into his ear, thrusting in and out as if his baby brother wasn't in the room. “Tell him why you keep missing family appointments. So disappointing, Kyle.”

With great shame, like a heavy burden, something about the situation made him come. He bit into his lip so hard it bled as he came onto the floral upholstery.

“No way,” Ike stared, eyes wide as he looked between the two men. Kyle, overstimulated, pushed Eric away, elbowing him in the gut.

“I didn't say I wanted to fuck your kid brother, Jew boy,” always the worst thing at the worst time. It was the Cartman touch, his trademark.

“You're screwing him?” Ike looked at Kyle, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed. “I didn't think you could stray further from God’s light. Guess I was wrong.”

“Ike, stop it. It's not like that,” he called out as Ike turned his back on the couple.

“It is, though. You missed spending time with Mom to fuck someone who hates us, hates you,” Ike sighed, like he was waiting for a decent excuse.

Kyle didn't have one. Not prepared anyway.

“Mom’ll still be there for the next one. Don't tell her about this,” he said as he hastily pulled his pants back up. “She doesn't need to know. No one needs to know.”

“It's sick,” Ike sneered. “You're sick.”

And with that he slammed the door, leaving the driveway with a burnout. Kyle didn't say anything as he left. He simply locked the door.


End file.
